I AM

I am a plump grapefruit ready for a fork
or silver knife to pierce my fleshy gold.

I am an alley full of strangers and their
voices like morning music thumping
at a rusty dumpster.

I am a patient moment when gap and stretch
become a time for all to breathe.

I am golden.

I am darkness yearning for itself.

I am far from here where the Andes
and the Conquistadors soak their sleeves
and lust for spoils in blood of bold
squat Indian men.

I am the trill of birds on city branches.

I am the treaded known and the map not yet drawn
nor imagined in the shining mind of the explorer’s son.

I am scintillation, pure and simple.

I am the canyon deeper than we can reasonably descend.

I am the mass of bone and mortal fear known
as doubting man.

I am tomorrow clothed in today’s purple vestment.

I am who am as we all in truth be told shall be.

You are I AM,
We Can Be
Morning and Night,
the Air
Where Breath and Body
Soar as a Dove
or Goddess
or Light,

this woven cloth
where Planets
loosely wrapped
bathe and breathe
their luscious
first clean
freshest sigh.